Cookies
by Angelfluff
Summary: In which Tim and Damian are forced to work together to solve an all important question. What happened to their cookie stashes? One-shot, R&R No flames!


**A/N: **This silly idea came to mind on a whim, so of course I had to write it! After all, who doesn't like a good mystery now and then?

**Warning: **...Don't mess with the Bat-brother's and their Alfred cookies.

* * *

He took them.

Everything Timothy Drake owned held a particular space and location. He liked it that way. After all, a messy room led to a messy life-style. And with all the chaos he dealt with on a daily basis, it was nice to have one thing he could come back to that would always stay orderly.

That was until now of course.

The demon spawn had entered his last piece of sacristy, and with complete and utter disregard, stole the last few Alfred cookies he had tucked away in a jar on his desk. It didn't take a genius detective to realize they were gone. The crumbs left behind were an easy clue.

Now, it would have been easy to simply let the whole situation drop. Their faithful butler would have effortlessly whipped up another batch if anyone inclined to ask. And besides, Damian fed off of making other's miserable, namely Tim. It was best to ignore the Bat-brat and not give him the satisfaction of knowing he succeeded in angering him.

But there was no way he was going to let it slide this time. Each morsel littering his desk was symbolic, like salt being thrown in an open wound.

This signified war.

Storming out into the hallway, Tim made his way towards Damian's room with as much haste Red Robin would to the scene of a crime. The younger boy had left his door propped open, not that it mattered, because he wasn't going to wait around for an invitation to be allowed in.

Upon entering the room, Damian's face was priceless as he stared down Tim like he was committing a cardinal sin for appearing in his bedroom. In truth, this was probably the first time Tim had ever been here.

It was sort of an unspoken agreement that neither would dare go into each other's "safe havens". But Damian had broken that compact first, and he certainly wasn't going to lose his nerve now.

"What do you want Drake?" Damian spat, voice evidently vile. Normally the tone would have sent a shiver down his spine, but Tim was less than amused, anger beating out his normally rational mind. The younger male was the only person who was able to evoke such an emotion of pure hatred within him.

"I could care less what you do in your spare time, but if you ever go into my room and touch my stuff again I promise you'll regret it." Tim growled, face boiling a deep shade of red.

Damian scoffed, shifting his weight off his bed and into a standing position. Narrowing his cerulean orbs at the taller boy before him, he retorted, "I wouldn't dare waste my time entering your menial chamber, let alone contaminate my hands by touching your filth. You've gone delusional Drake."

Taking in a harsh intake of breath, Tim hissed, "Crumbs were left all over my desk. Unless the Boogeyman snuck into my room, I'm pretty sure it was you who took the rest of my cookies."

Damian cocked an eyebrow, seeming to contemplate his words before muttering, "Interesting..." He turned his back towards the other boy and proceeded with rifling through a dresser drawer.

Tim was undoubtedly confused at the moment, and almost a slight bit offended with being so blatantly ignored. Craning his neck, he attempted to try and see what the boy was looking for.

Finally Damian seemed to find it, and proceeded with showing the item to his adopted brother. "This box-" He paused, gesturing at the wooden object. "-is where I store my extra snack provisions from Pennyworth."

"Okay...?" Tim blinked, unsure of what the small child was getting at. Damian sighed, acting as if the older boy was incompetent.

"Look inside." He demanded impatiently, pulling the lip up to allow its contents to be visible. Tim felt a large lump forming in his throat from shock.

"Empty." His voice shook, immediately feeling regret over being so quick to judge the younger kid. Damian may have been a demon spawn, but he wasn't a liar. They were both victims.

"Correct. Tt you're smarter than I thought Drake." Damian sneered, clamping the box shut. He proceeded with tossing it on to his bed before folding his arms across his chest.

Tim ignored the comment and rolled his eyes, placing one hand underneath his chin. This certainly was a brain-teaser. Unless both of them had a rare case of blacking out and binge eating, someone or thing had stolen their treats.

And if Damian wasn't the one whom snuck into his room than who was?

"Have you got any leads?" Tim questioned, finding himself slowly start to pace.

Damian shook his head but pointed out, "No but you have brought to notice a possible thief. Although I've never heard mention of this Boogeyman, he must be quite the assailant to have slipped underneath my nose."

Tim groaned and promptly face-palmed. "That's just an old children's tale. He isn't real. And anyways, the Boogeyman sneaks underneath beds and makes kids have nightmares. I doubt he'd care about cookies, even one's that are as good as Alfred's."

"Never question a thief's motives Drake. If you're so certain, than you won't mind checking as proof?" Damian challenged, barely waiting for a reply as he removed a Bat-a-rang from his pocket and quickly lifted his sheets to search underneath his own bed.

"I...suppose..." Tim hesitated, hating the way his voice quavered. This was bound to be a pointless endeavor on both of their behalf's, but at least if he proved right he'd have something to hold over Damian's head.

"The coward isn't in my room." Damian observed, pulling away from his mattress after spotting nothing. He motioned Tim to follow out into the hallway, where he took residency in the shadows.

Tim looked down to a watch that graced his left hand. It was just about evening, and almost time to head off to sleep. They'd have to move quickly if they wanted the chance to check every room with a bed.

With that, Tim took after Damian in close pursuit, stopping at the end of the hallway. It was funny, neither of them really feared the dark. They were children to the embodiment of darkness himself after all.

Despite so however, Tim had to admit that Wayne manor seemed much more eerie at night than in the day time. Light emanated from the windows casting dark shadows across the walls. It set his body into high alert mode, adrenaline pumping.

Damian on the other hand seemed more concerned with the objective at hand, finding the goon who had the nerves to take something from the prodigal son. Were they that foolish not to know whom they were messing with?

A loud bang caused the two to exchange glances and move their backs against the wall. All was silent for a moment before Damian asked, "What does this Boogeyman look like Drake?"

Tim shivered, almost certain that he caught a glance of unease in the younger boy's eyes. If both weren't so freaked out at the moment, they might have mocked one another for behaving like scardey-cats.

"I heard that he could take many forms. Sometimes as a horribly disfigured monster, and other times as a ghost." He mumbled in return, running one hand through his dark locks nervously.

Damian was about to respond when the faint sound of moaning, echoed from behind the corner. Peeking their heads over the wall ever so slightly, they caught the glimpse of a white figure approaching at a quickening rate.

"Drake?" Damian whispered, voice barely loud enough to hear. Tim nodded, legs beginning to feel like jello as he broke into a cold sweat.

"Yes?"

"We will run back to my room, no questions asked."

"Agreed."

And with that, they took off sprinting, putting the Flash's speed to shame. Neither would ever speak of such night again, too ashamed and fearful of the Boogeyman's return. Besides, what would Bruce have thought seeing his well-trained Robins flaking out over a ghost?

Speaking of which...

Dick whined, feeling his stomach gurgle once more as he made his way down-stairs. Alfred looked up at him precariously, unable to keep a smirk from crossing his lips.

"Stomach trouble master Grayson?" He questioned, reaching up into a cabinet to grab a bottle of pills.

"Yeah...I've got a pretty bad headache too." Dick admitted, sliding his back against the kitchen's wall and into a sitting position.

Alfred tsked to himself, scolding gently, "Look at the state you're in! The last I seen you behave in such a way was when you were about six years old. Every time you'd have a tummy-ache you'd walk throughout the house moaning, a blanket wrapped around ye. I do recall that was usually due to a certain someone sneaking a few extra snacks before bed."

Dick grinned sheepishly, removing one hand from the blanket wrapped around him to take the medicine. "Old habits die-hard Alfred."

"I can see that." Alfred chuckled knowingly. "And now it is time for you to rest. I'm sure you'll be off patrolling later in the night." He began to shoo the young male out of the room, in which Dick abided.

"Wait. Can I have one cookie for the road?" Dick turned back to question, flashing a sensational smile.

"Of course, master Grayson. Of course."

* * *

~ Fin ~

I hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! Feel free to fill out that little box below to tell me your thoughts.


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